


The Blackwell Witcher

by Lady_Valerian



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Bittersweet, Blood and Violence, Eskel is a mentor, Eventual Amberpricefield, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Gun Violence, I'd add more character tags but I've got tonnes, Kinda, Lot of tags, Max is a badass, Maxine "Max" Caulfield Still Has Powers, Monster of the Week, Monsters, Multi, Original Character(s), Polyamory, Prescott is an ass, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Swearing, Swordplay, The Witcher 3 Spoilers, They're all messes, Why Did I Write This?, Witcher Max, because it's going to rock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-08-04 09:47:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16344482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Valerian/pseuds/Lady_Valerian
Summary: Maxine Caulfield is not who she says she is.She never went to Seattle. She never spent five years in that city trying to forget Arcadia Bay and the friend she left to grieveShe was taken somewhere else, a cold land of monsters and magic and returned a monster herself."For the Witcher, heartless, cold. Paid in coin of gold. She comes, she'll go, leave naught behind but heartache and woe."





	1. The Opener

Silver sword. For killing monsters.

It was kind of odd, being back in Arcadia Bay, hell, being back in America at all was still weird. All the lights, the sounds, the smells of modern society were overwhelming to her. The technology was almost alien, having spent so long away from it all. It just didn’t seem real to her, and the irony of the modern era feeling like a fantasy was not lost on Max, considering all that had happened over the last five years. She gently touched the clothes on her dresser, focusing slightly, her fingers tracing over the patterned threads. Again, it felt alien to her, the machined clothing too regular, too…perfect. After four years wearing handmade clothes and armour, it was both a relief and a discomfort to be wearing normal clothing again. Though, it kind of wasn’t normal clothing, either. It was seriously weird wearing clothes that felt so precise. She looked in the mirror, smiling slightly at what she saw: a slight, short brunette with entirely normal blue eyes and no other oddities.

Steel sword. For killing humans

One thing that wasn’t weird was Blackwell. Sure, adjusting to a school again was difficult, but it was good to be in a place where the people didn’t know what she was, where she was just Max Caulfield, at least openly. And so long as no-one looked too closely or asked too many questions, she’d still be Max Caulfield until she had no other choice. It was such a goddamn relief not to be noticed by anyone, really. She chuckled to herself, putting her swords in her chest of drawers. Of course, she wasn’t noticed, it was her first day here. “So much for the master of stealth, Caulfield.” She muttered, brushing her fingers over the hilt of Spit, thoughts of a cold castle, yellow eyes, the stench of death flashing through her head. She shook as she returned to herself, putting the silver sword down, turning to her other, the almost identical longsword’s weight comforting to her as she gently placed Polish next to Spit, the matching swords glinting in the afternoon night. Yeah, Blackwell wasn’t going to be hard to blend into as long as she didn’t stab anyone or forget to wear pink on Wednesdays. 

Armour. Leather, lightweight. Good for agility.

Of course, if anyone saw her wearing armour, it was kind of likely that she could pull it off as cosplay or some shit. It wasn’t like she was new to lying and honestly, this really was a situation where her lies were infinitely more plausible than the truth. It was weird to think that here, pretty much everything about her existence was seen as completely implausible, while back in the castle, the most implausible thing about her was her fucking phone. And surviving the Trial of the Grasses, apparently. She clenched her fist, a shadow of half remembered pain flickering through her. At least the wounds didn’t really hurt anymore, most of the time. And the memory just didn’t bother her. Most things didn’t really bother her now, at least nothing to do with mortal peril. Or bitchy teenage girls. Which was a relief, considering her neighbour seemed to be a little bit to the south of unpleasant. Victoria or something, it wasn’t super important, Max mused, seeing as there were more than decent odds that she would interact with the girl as little as humanly possible. There was no real need to try and cosy up with a girl who seemed unpleasant, and Max did have a reason to be here beyond “I need to go to school". She had a Path. 

The wolfshead medallion. A witcher’s badge

Max draped the medallion around her neck, the silver glinting, motionless. It stood out a bit, but honestly, she didn’t really care. It was kind of a part of her, the only piece of jewellery she actually gave a shit about. And it was better to look a little like a dork than to be blindsided by a witch or something. And as far as Max knew, there was quite a bit of Power in Arcadia Bay, she could feel it humming in the ground around her. She knew it wasn’t quite what a sorceress would feel, but her blood hummed in tune with this place. She was born here, after all. Her fingers absently formed the Axii sign, the magic harmlessly diffusing into the air, the familiar rush of euphoria at the sensation a little intoxicating. It was good to be back in Arcadia Bay, the utterly bizarre circumstances notwithstanding. The training, the pain, all of it was worth it to be back home. The fact she’d managed to land a scholarship to Blackwell, enrol and basically get to the one place she’d needed to be was insanely lucky, Max thought to herself as she picked up her messenger bag. The first lucky break she’d had since that elf had appeared in her house, honestly. The witcher opened the door, emerging into the dorm hallway. The aromas of a dormitory hit her like a hammer to the chest, the sharp, sweet smells of perfume, hidden stashes of alcohol, weed, the sour smells of dirty laundry and sweat almost burning into her nose. She sneezed, forcing herself to get control of her senses. It was no worse than any of the towns she’d been to, and it was definitely not worse than monster smell. It wasn’t very crowded in the hall, everyone was either unpacking or outside, enjoying the autumn sun. The only people in the hall was Juliet…Moore? Watson? Max couldn’t remember and Kate Marsh. Juliet was blonde, journalist of sorts, inquisitive. Nice enough, from what she could tell. The other girl, Max didn’t have much of a read on. She seemed to be religious, fairly soft spoken and slight. Kate was, however, the more approachable girl in the hall, so logically, the better option to connect with. And if nothing else, it would be nice to make a friend. 

“Hello, Kate. It’s Kate, right?” Max smiled at the girl, crossing her arms. Kate seemed a little surprised that Max was talking to her, given how her eyes widened a little. Or it could be the wolfshead medallion, considering the girl’s only jewellery was a cross. Or was it a crucifix? Max couldn’t really remember, it had been a while since she’d needed to know the difference. It wasn’t like she’d been to a church in a while. Or ever. “I’m Max, I live in room two-one-nine. Thought I’d say hi, since we’re neighbours.” Max extended her hand, wondering if this was coming off as a bit awkward.  
Kate gently took Max’s hand, her hand weirdly soft compared to Max’s callused one and gave it a light shake. She seemed friendly enough, despite the strange look she gave Max when she offered a handshake. “Yeah, I’m Kate. Is this your first time at Blackwell as well?” She had a pretty quiet voice, which was a relief. Everyone seemed too loud around here, it was kind of painful sometimes. Another thing about the “modern” world that was going to take some adjustment.  
“Yeah, it’s my first day. I’m from Seattle, actually, but it’s really good to be here.” The lie was easy, it was so much easier than even trying to say the truth. And it wasn’t entirely a lie, after all.

“Oh, where’d you go before here?” 

“Oh, Aki Kurose High. It was a decent place, but Blackwell is better.” Max smiled, shifting the bag on her shoulder, a silence falling over the two, both of them standing awkwardly in the hall. Max’s gaze drifted around, trying to find a topic of conversation from their surroundings. It was a bit hard, honestly. “So, I have no idea where anything is in this school, I wasn’t really paying attention at orientation. Long drive, you know?”

“Well, you’re in the girl’s dorms, obviously, but um, I don’t really know much about what’s here, either. I only arrived this afternoon, you see.” Kate looked apologetic, so Max didn’t push. She did have some manners, after all. “Your necklace is pretty cool, by the way.”

Max started, she didn’t expect her to compliment the medallion, it just didn’t seem like Kate’s style. To be fair, she didn’t know anything about Kate’s fashion sense, so making a judgement on it was unwise. “Thanks, it was a gift from my uncle for my eighteenth.” Metaphorically true. “He made it himself.” Blatant lie. “Anyway, I’ve kept enough of your time, I think I’ll wander around for a bit. I’ll see you in class or something.” She waved and walked away, Kate’s quiet goodbye drowned out by Max’s thoughts. There were other girls in the dorm, but most of them hadn’t really gotten Max’s attention yet or tried to. It was kind of amusing to her, in an obscure sort of way: before she came here, she was the centre of fearful attention wherever she went but here? Here no one really noticed the weird girl with the wolfshead medallion. It was a welcome change, though she had to wonder what the others would have thought of all this. She smiled to herself as she imagined Keira’s reaction to the size of the rooms here. It would not be a pretty discussion with the campus staff and would probably end with something exploding. 

Lost in thought as she was, Max barely noticed when she left the dorms. It was a strange sort of homecoming, after spending so many years in a world insanely different to Arcadia Bay only to return to find that place recognisable, familiar but different. It was still the quiet fishing town she’d left so many years ago, but there was an undercurrent to it, a tense undertone that hummed through the town like a bassline. The town was harsher than she remembered, or harsher than she knew. There was almost an aura of fear in the town, like it was on the brink of collapse but hadn’t quite noticed yet. Max shook her head, trying to clear her mind of the thoughts. Regardless of the town’s economic problems, she had a duty to fulfil. There would be worse to come in the future, and Blackwell would undoubtably need a witcher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoy this, this is possibly my craziest idea ever.
> 
> The rest of this will be a fair whack longer, this is just a prologue of sorts. 
> 
> Have fun with this, I know I'm gonna


	2. Pretty Vacant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are set into motion and Max is only partially ready

 

It had been almost two months since Max returned to Arcadia Bay. During that _wonderful_ time, she had encountered the high queen bitch of Blackwell, Victoria Chase, who could be best summarised, in Max’s mind, as the unholy fusion between Regina George and Phillipa Eilhart. Which made the whole “sharing a floor” thing utterly awkward in ways only ancient sages could truly comprehend. Victoria had taken _one_ look at Max and decided that she was somehow the absolute bottom tier of human genetic potential in every conceivable way. Which was great. Though, on the other hand, Max had gotten to know her neighbour Kate slightly better which was nice. Kate was very quiet, which suited Max, and was generally the nicest person Max had ever met. The other girls on the floor were varying degrees of pleasant, Dana in particular being pretty friendly but overall, Max was content to remain in the background, avoiding detailed scrutiny about her other activities. After all, as far as Max knew none of these people were really equipped to deal with the level of bullshit she had to in her actual job. Witcher’s work was arduous work when you had to hide all of your gear, brew your potions in the actual dead of night and avoid the overzealous campus security. Petty tyranny ahoy!

All of this floated through Max’s head as she endeavoured to pay attention during class, Mr Jefferson’s words fading into background noise as she drifted in and out of awareness. The class was fun and all, photography still being one of Max’s passions, but her lack of sleep the night before was really catching up to her. Even witchers need to rest, and she’d gotten barely any this week what with training through the night and going on hunts for creatures. It was interesting, but despite there being straightforward evidence of monsters nesting in the woods around Arcadia Bay, she hadn’t encountered anything bigger than a lone nekker since her arrival. For a split second, Max wondered about Chloe, but she crushed that thought immediately. Regardless of whether Chloe was still in town or not, Max couldn’t see her. How could she explain what was happening, or where she’d been? Chloe probably assumed that Max had just ghosted her after she left, considering the texts she’d gotten from Chloe after she was able to get her phone working again. Texts from five to three years ago. She didn’t know if she’d reply. She didn’t know why she hadn’t texted back to see if it was still Chloe’s number. Witchers aren’t supposed to be afraid, so why was she scared shitless about seeing Chloe again? Max raised her head, forcing herself to pay attention, trying to avoid any thoughts about Chloe or the past. It was like a dream sometimes, like they were events that happened to someone more human than Max. Max managed to fight off her maudlin thoughts by focusing on the classroom, trying to listen to the class being taught but despite her best efforts, she could feel the encroaching wave of sleep washing over her. Wait. Her medallion was humming, almost rattling against her chest, like there was something magical in the room

Wind whipped at her face suddenly, the world around her gone. She was standing on a hill, the sky heavy with slate-grey clouds, the wind cutting through her clothes like a thousand tiny needles. Rain spat down from the sky and the air roared with thunder. The storm wasn’t natural, she could feel that in her bones, the air was almost blazing with the power. She knew this vision, it was what led her to come back in the first place. The Conjunction of Spheres, dropping monsters and magic into an unsuspecting world, a world with no witchers. There was a different quality to this vision, however. It felt more real, like she was witnessing events that had already occurred and she was experiencing that after the fact. She walked, following the steps of the vision like she always had, but again, it was far more distinct. There was more than just a hill and a lighthouse, it was covered in trees, there was a path, it was an exact replica of the place she’d seen in her childhood. The vision always followed the same pattern, she’d walk up the hill and reach the lighthouse. As she obliged, walking in the preordained pattern she always followed. The path was harder, the wind and rain pushing her around, nearly knocking her down in parts, but she slowly made it to the top of the cliff. What she saw, however... It was an immense maelstrom of magical energy, raw elemental chaos pulled into the physical world by some otherworldly force. Max froze, unable to believe what she was seeing, the sheer majesty of the terrible storm sending a jolt of terror through her entire body. She had never seen this before. She’d seen monsters pour into the world, she’d seen the lighthouse get destroyed but this had never occurred in her visions. She tried to move, but she couldn’t, her feet were rooted to the ground as she turned to look up as a boat smashed into the lighthouse and the world went dark

She woke up in her classroom with a jolt, the words of her teacher a vague hum as she re-oriented herself, trying to look like she’d just been sleeping and not deeply traumatised by the horrifying nightmare crazy vision that she’d suddenly had. Elder blood _sucked._ She took a breath, focusing on the lesson: “Alfred Hitchcock famously called film “little pieces of time”, but he could be talking about photography, as he likely was.” Max leaned back and focused on the lecture, pushing the problem to the back of her mind. It was a problem for later, this was class now. She glanced around the room, taking a calming breath, the combined aromas of marker pens, whatever ridiculously expensive perfume Victoria was wearing, dust, shoes and sweat flowing over her, allowing her to centre herself in the room. It was class, not another vision. She reached for her camera, the familiar textures comforting to her fingers, every bump and groove sending a warm feeling through her. Emotion was difficult for Max to process, the mutations made it hard at the best of times to feel strongly about a lot of things, and on a certain level she knew that it wasn’t how she was supposed to think, but here she was. Trying to understand what the camera made her feel. She blinked and without really thinking snapped a selfie, the light from the flash dazzling her slightly.

“Shh, I believe Max has taken what you kids call a "selfie"... A dumb word for a wonderful photographic tradition. And Max has a gift. Of course, as you all know, the photo portrait has been popular since the early 1800's. Your generation was not the first to use images for selfie-expression. Sorry. I couldn't resist. The point remains that the portraiture has always been a vital aspect of art, and photography, for as long as it's been around. Now Max, since you've captured our interest and clearly want to join the conversation, can you please tell us the name of the process that gave birth to the first self-portraits?” The rambling speech from her teacher about forms of photographic history had completely gone over her head, honestly and Max just wanted to bail from class at this point. She shrugged slightly, looking at Mr Jefferson with a vaguely confused expression on her face, doing her best impersonation of a vague student who _really_ didn’t want to be part of the conversation. She shrugged apologetically, making sure her voice was appropriately hesitant

“I don’t know, sir, I’m sorry.” Max said, doing her best to zone out Jefferson’s next comment or two, seeing as the bell was about to ring. Getting the fuck out of here was paramount, mostly because she was completely done with class right now. She did feel bad about letting Jefferson down, he was a pretty interesting teacher who really knew his stuff. Course, there was absolutely no way she was submitting the photo she’d taken for the “Everyday Heroes” contest. One, she didn’t want to draw too much attention to herself and two, there was no way a girl who spent most of her photography time documenting monster nests would be able to use her submission to win a bloody art contest. Her thoughts drifted to her so-called rival in the class, Victoria, who had apparently given the right answer? She _really_ didn’t pay much attention to her, considering that the best way to infuriate her was just to ignore her. And honestly, a school bully wasn’t nearly as terrifying as say, an angry noonwraith. It was just kind of pathetic and a waste of energy responding. Though, that’s not to say Max wasn’t occasionally tempted to punch Victoria in her perfect face. Well, more than occasionally. Basically, every time the girl was excessively bitchy, which was all the time? Max wasn’t able to tell since she couldn’t really discern non-bitchy Victoria behaviours from bitchy Victoria behaviours. Her true kryptonite, if you will.

The bell rang, the sound giving Max a slight headache, Jefferson’s final lecture cut short by the sound of the bell. As Max gathered her things, she could hear him calling her out about the damn contest. This was one of those scenarios where she wished she could just use a sign in class. Maybe Igni, start a fire, get a good old fashioned “oh my god this building is literally burning down” distraction going on. Hush, Max, your Lambert is showing, she chided herself mentally, smiling at the thought of the abrasive witcher having to spend his time in this photography class. He’d kill everyone in the room from sheer bored frustration in like, ten minutes, she concluded. Such is the way of Lambert. She sighed, smiling gently at Kate, who didn’t seem like herself today, before walking towards the indomitable Victoria and the unsuspecting mortal trapped in her web of ass-kissery. Might as well rip off the band-aid regarding the whole photography contest thing and move on to freaking out about the giant fucking maelstrom of magic that was possibly going to rip the town apart in the near to far future. Priorities and all that. Normally, Max would be more cautious about interrupting a conversation, but today was not a day for caution.

“Mister Jefferson? Can I talk to you for a second? It’s about my submission for the contest.” Max leaned on the markerboard, folding her arms as she stared down the great spider herself, the other girl leaving after a certain token effort to assert some weird queen bee bullshit. Max swore that girl wanted to sleep with her teacher. Or consume his heart to gain his powers. She shook her head lightly, she needed to focus on a conversation for once in her life. He was saying something about being one of photography’s rising stars, which was nice, but given the whole witcher thing made it a nice sentiment but not entirely accurate: “I didn’t really have enough time to take a photo for the competition, I’ve just had a _lot_ going on. It’s been an insane year.”

“I know, and I understand that, Max.” Max doubted that. “Now I know it's a drag to hear some old dude lecture you...but life won't wait for you to play catch-up. You're young, the world is yours, blah, blah, blah, right? But you do have a gift, you have the fever to take images, to frame the world only the way you envision it. Now, all you need is the courage to share your gift with others. That's what separates the artist from the amateur.” Max nodded with what she assumed was the correct amount of agreement, but honestly? She couldn’t shake the image of hearing a similar speech from Dandelion to his cabaret girls. The similarities were striking, physically anyway. Personality wise, Dandelion was probably more pretentious.

Having escaped that conversation, Max left the classroom, entering the hallway. It was a relief to be outside of the classroom, it helped things feel more real to her. She put a pair of earbuds in, the soothing sounds of Syd Matters drowning out the insane amount of sound she was picking up from the surrounding students. It was always good being in the hall, watching all the passers-by, just standing apart from the crowd and watching it ebb and flow, the overall energy of people fascinating. After a moment, Max started to move through the crowd, smiling at the few people she considered actual friends and not acquaintances, moving to her locker. It wasn’t a place where she kept her really important gear, she didn’t want to leave it somewhere that Madsen could find it. Not after that close call with the wyvern blood. She put her books in there, but nothing else. She re-joined the flow of the mob, slowly drifting towards the bathroom, needing to be away, a place to take stock, get a hold of her stupid visions. Avoid more high school drama. All the good stuff.

It was quiet in the bathroom; the place was completely empty. Max looked in the mirror and slipped the glamour off of her wrist, letting the illusion fade. The girl with mousy brown hair, a slight physique and blue eyes was gone, and in her place stood a witcher, her cat’s eyes glowing in the dim light. A light scar traced through her eyebrow and went down her face, stopping at the side of her cheek, a souvenir from the first monster she killed. She stood there, staring at her true self, the person behind the illusion. She was still small, but her posture held a sense of coiled danger that wasn’t present in her “public persona”, the underlying training of a witcher shining through without illusions hiding it. She took a deep breath, revelling in a moment free from her disguise, tracing a hand down the streak of white hair she planned to dye blue, another souvenir from Kaer Morhen. Her hand snaked out, sliding the bracelet back onto her wrist, her appearance fading away, the disguise sliding back in place like a well-worn shirt. One that was flattering, but not really comfortable or _her_.

She took a deep breath, looking around the room before her medallion started to rattle. Max spun around, and she saw it. An azure butterfly, fluttering into the room, landing gently on the cleaning equipment, the creature making her medallion jump around on her chest. Whatever it was, it had Power and it was honestly beautiful. She moved over, taking care not to startle it, taking her camera out of her bag. Regardless of what it was, the visual of such a vibrant creature in a drab environment was stunning in contrast, and she had to record it for posterity’s sake. Plus, she’d discovered years ago, if a creature is hiding something with magic, it might show up on the photo. She snapped the shot, the sound of the camera almost deafening in the serene silence that had fallen over the room, a silence that almost slammed back into place when the sound of the camera faded away. There was a sense of anticipation, the sensation Max sometimes felt just before drawing her sword. It was almost prophetic, like the next moment would be momentous. The door slammed open, making Max jump, the stench of overapplied aftershave and weed assaulting her, Max scurried into a corner, turning to see who had burst into the bathroom…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I'll be glad when I can fully diverge and not have to recycle dialogue from the game. 
> 
> Also, I need to waste less words on Max bitching about Victoria? Nah. Never. 
> 
> Also also: Cliffhangeeer


	3. Hit and Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max saves a life, hears voices and goes against her better judgement

The person who had barged into the room was a male student called Nathan Prescott, who was apparently Victoria Chase’s partner in rich people bullshit. Max largely found him irritating in the same way one found a small dog irritating, and right now was no exception. The butterfly, whatever it was, had fluttered away once he barged in, denying Max the chance to examine what it was. Max did not have the patience to deal with an idiot in the girl’s room, especially one who sounded like he was one breakdown away from shooting someone. It would be easier to just wait in the corner until he left and then just leave. She wasn’t afraid of him, he just wouldn’t be worth the effort of beating the shit out of him. The next second, a girl burst into the room, checking the stalls, a girl whose presence gave Max a sense of déjà vu. Her voice was familiar but not recognisable, not in this room with its shitty acoustics. The conversation grew heated, Max tensing up as she smelt the heady scent of anger as it got stronger, spread through the air. The air was tense, taut like a piece of wire. Max knelt down in the corner, trying to shut out the sounds of the two arguing figures. It wasn’t her concern what these two humans did, witchers didn’t get involved.

Even if someone was going to die, they didn’t get involved.

It just wasn’t their way. She wasn’t ordinary, she wasn’t _allowed_ to care anymore. She couldn’t afford sentiment. There wasn’t a reason to care, there was no contract.

The gunshot cracked through the room, the sound of a body slumping to the ground somehow louder than the ballistic. Max closed her eyes, pressing her hands against her ears. She couldn’t understand why she felt like this, she’d seen so much death in her life, so much suffering, but there was something about this killing, the death beside her that she couldn’t shake. She could have stopped it in moments, just a single sign could have saved the girl’s life. She could have snapped Prescott’s arm, taken the gun from him, anything, but she just…let him kill her. She stood by, the fastest fucking witcher she knew, and let a guy kill an innocent girl. She looked at her right hand, the fingers trembling as the power of her blood flowed through them. The power to reverse time, a gift not even Cirilla had, the thing that had led to her abduction and to her transformation. She sighed, the noise loud in the silence of the empty room, the gift of her lineage burning through her blood as she slowly clenched her right fist, the flickering red blur of rewound time buzzing around her. She bit her lip as the familiar pain burned through her right arm, the universe pushing back against her paltry control. Time reversed, her decision made. A dagger appeared in her hand, the blade hidden in her sleeve, and she slammed the hilt into the fire alarm, the screaming bell ripping through the deafening thud of her heartbeat as she calmed herself.

The girl and Prescott were gone by the time Max emerged from her corner, her vision blurred slightly as she walked out, wiping her forehead. It had been a bit intense in there and she was relieved to be out in the slightly fresher air of the hall. The hall seemed largely deserted, barring the security guard and the principal, both of whom were people Max wasn’t entirely interested in interacting with. She just wanted to go meditate in her room after this sorry affair and just enjoy her goddamn afternoon, if she was being quite honest with herself. She started to move out of the room, trying to get the heck out of dodge before she got a petty tyrant all up in her business.

_Max. Find Chloe._

Everything slowed down as Max froze in place. Her hand reflexively twitched towards her back, reaching for a blade that wasn’t there. Her gaze drifted towards her medallion as it swung back and forth, the slow reaction almost mesmerising as it reacted to whatever force had just spoken to her. She could feel it still, the gentle touch on her mind, the entity that had just tried to contact her. Which was great. Being contacted by unseen psychic forces was honestly amazing, the absolute epitome of what she wanted in her head. Maybe Geralt’s attitudes had rubbed off her more than she thought but having someone rummage in her head was the exact opposite of a welcome sensation. Especially after she’d used her migraine-inducing time powers to save some idiot’s life.

“Getting annoyed by that didn’t take you long, Max. You’ve got issues, kid.” She muttered to herself, doing a slight affectation of Eskel’s accent. It helped to calm her, thinking about her erstwhile mentor in swordplay. She looked around, the idiot guard seemingly having not noticed her, despite standing a few feet away. Maybe that presence that had just appeared had done something to prevent her detection by the idiot, but she decided against standing around like an idiot talking to herself. She started to move towards the exit, debating with herself about whether she should try to discern what the entity was or just track down Chloe Price. She walked past the principal, stopping herself before she exited. While she had saved that girl’s life, she should probably do a _little_ follow-up and tell the principal about the world’s least competent school shooter. She took a deep breath and turned to talk to Mister Wells at about the exact same time he started talking to her.

“Mister Well- “

“Max, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Well, that wasn’t oddly accurate at all. Maybe Wells was a little more astrally perceptive than her first impression had allowed, considering that he actually noticed her, unlike low budget John McLane over there.

“I’m just a little worried about my future.” The actual honest to gods truth right there, folks. Too bad he clearly wasn’t buying it.

“You're sweating pinballs. Is that all you're thinking about? You can always be upfront with me, Max. Or have you done something wrong... Is that it? Well, Max? Talk to me.” Because trusting authority figures had worked out for her so well in the past. Max sighed, knowing that there’d definitely be consequences for her actions.

“I saw Nathan Prescott waving a gun around in the girl’s bathroom and ranting to himself. Like, it was really disturbing.” Like? Come on, Max, you can do better than that, she chastised herself. Hopefully the ruler of all Blackwell would have a slightly more open-minded view towards acting against a rich donor’s spawn. Oh wait, this is America.

“Are you sure, Max? I don’t really see that kind of situation occurring, if I might be quite frank. Nathan Prescott is from one of the town’s most honoured families and a model student, so I find it quite implausible to see him doing such a thing.” Well, she saw that one coming. “What happened next, and please, tell me in detail.”

“Well, he ran out of there when the alarm went off like a Te-like someone who knew they really shouldn’t be in the girl’s room, sir. I’m just telling you what happened as I saw it, I really think you should do something.” Don’t push it too hard, Max, you have to remain stealthy about this. Plus, if and when the rich idiot finds out that you reported him, you’ll have to be somewhere you can dictate the terms of the confrontation.

“Max, that’s enough. I will look into the matter and when a resolution is called for, steps will be taken. Now go outside and join the rest of your class. Enjoy the autumn weather while it lasts.”

Max took the hint and left the building. She could have rewound and tried to alter the terms of that conversation; but using the blood had already given her a massive headache and she did _not_ want to get dependant on that power any more than she had to. The outside was filled with people, the sounds of her fellow students enjoying themselves was a welcome change to the buzzing in her head of the various thoughts and plans running through her head. She scanned the crowd before checking the messages on her phone. Couple from Warren, the chem geek in her science class. ‘Course, he didn’t know shit about alchemy so talking to him could be a little irritating. Not a bad dude or anything, just not her best friend. Though it wasn’t like Max was hunting for a coterie or anything, she’d just be endangering anyone who got too into her gig and it wouldn’t be fair to her friends if she kept lying about her true nature. Max tapped her chin, thinking about what to do. She did have to get that USB from her room, if only because she needed to get Warren off of her back about it, and she needed to type up a journal entry about the vision and her little psychic encounter with an entity whose presence seemed to have faded just when she started talking to Wells.

She also needed to make a decision about tracking down Chloe.

Because that wasn’t a can of worms right there.

She sighed, looking at the other students again. No sign of Chase, which was either great or abjectly horrible, because on one hand, whenever VC wasn’t in the immediate area, the human race became better people as a result of freedom from her miasma of miserable, but on the other hand, that meant she would probably be around the dorms. And Max really didn’t want to get into a confrontation when she was about to go do the paperwork of being a witcher, aka the least interesting component of her job (albeit the part that held the least danger). She shrugged and started walking towards the dorms, waving at some of her fellow students. She noticed Ms Grant and her petition, one she had made a point to sign much earlier in the week, seeing as less security around the school made her coming and goings much easier to handle. A selfish motive maybe, but a valid one. A movement of paper caught her eye as it fluttered in the wind, and she moved over to take a look

A missing person’s poster, one that held a picture of someone that seemed vaguely familiar. Blonde, according to the poster’s description, and the photo was good, a decent headshot that would make the girl recognisable to someone who had paid attention to the poster. Of course, there were decent odds that no one had. Max pondered the poster for a moment. While it was unlikely that the girl was alive, or that there’d be a reward for her discovery, Max couldn’t shake the sense that looking for this girl would be a good course of action. In her experience, premonitions were usually reliable when coming from her, and if this poster gave her a premonition… She took the poster and stowed it in her bag, nestling it next to her emergency bottle of Swallow. You never knew. There was still something bugging her about the poster, something about the name ‘Rachel Amber’. She’d heard the name before, of course, everyone seemed to have known the girl on some level. It was like Rachel Amber was the Duchess of Toussaint with the amount of love directed towards her. But that wasn’t what was bugging her, it was more like the name should mean more to her than the simple sense of recognition she was experiencing. Max sighed, shaking her head. Standing around and wondering about what the feeling was wasn’t going to do anything, she needed to get to her dorm.

The worst part about arriving at her dorm was the general dorm stank that permeated everything. It wasn’t as bad as it could be, but she wasn’t exactly fond of the aromas of weed, perfume, sweat and like…patchouli. Oregon, the weirdly aromatic state. She looked around the area, noticing that Alyssa was there, reading as always, the current jock duology messing around like they were wont to do aaaaand shit. The Borg Queen and her drones were currently dominating the only available entrance into the dormitory. Max could scale the walls, but she didn’t want to. Obviously. She took a breath, suppressed her natural urge to solve her problems with violence and walked up to the entrance, Victoria already speaking her natural strain of bullshit the _second_ Max walked into view.

“Oh, look, it's Max Caulfield, the selfie ho of Blackwell. What a lame gimmick. Even Mark—Mr. Jefferson—falls for your waif hipster bullshit when you can _actually_ string a sentence together. ‘I don’t know, sir’, like, are you off your meds? I can’t believe they let someone as clearly special as you into Blackwell, this place has _so_ gone downhill.” Max raised an eyebrow at Victoria’s clearly not prepared speech. And the canned laughter of the studio audience (Courtney and Taylor). “Since you clearly need a remedial lesson in basic life skills, I guess you have to find another way into the dorm. We ain't moving. Oh, wait, hold that pose!” She snapped a photo of Max on her phone, which was clearly the mature course of action from one of Blackwell’s star pupils. “So original. Don't worry, Max, I'll put a vintage filter on it right before I post it all over social medias. Now, why don't you go fuck your selfie?”

Wow. That was the best line of her entire life. Max would be impressed if she wasn’t concerned with getting discount Heathers Chandler, Duke and McNamara out of her damn way. She sighed, rolling her eyes, folding her arms as she stared down Victoria. She’d done enough standing by today, and no-one kept Maxine ‘Dancer’ Caulfield away from her gear. After a moment, however, Max moved away, smiling to herself. Forcing a confrontation was premature, seeing as Max didn’t want to do anything else that might draw attention to herself, seeing as she was doing quite well in flying under the radar. She _could_ use Axii on Victoria, but the drones would notice and then her entire cover would go up in flames. Not ideal. Of course, Victoria’s vanity would be pretty easy to exploit if Max had to get past, and seeing as Samuel was lifting a paint can, the conclusion was academic. The mild use of Aard, and _voila_. The paint was unbalanced by the telekinetic force, tumbled to the ground and splattered paint all over the posse. To say Chase was displeased would be an understatement, seeing as her outfit was clearly really expensive. Her minions dispatched, the queen was alone, and Max moved in.

Oddly, Max felt the urge to be pleasant to Chase for once. It wouldn’t get her anything to be cruel, and Max was a witcher but needlessly cruel wasn’t part of her code. She sighed and went over to try to gain passage to the dorm.

“Hey, Chase.” She said, hands in her pockets.

“What do you want, Max?” The other girl sighed, sounding less bitchy and more…defeated, like the air had just been let out of her. Not exactly how she normally was.  


“Oh, nothing. You okay?” Max smiled awkwardly. It wasn’t really her thing. Plus, despite her dislike for Chase, there wasn’t much use in denying that the blonde was pretty in a sculptured aesthetic kind of way. Not Max’s type, but she was still pretty. Which made things slightly hard for the witcher to deal with. “I hope that outfit is salvageable, it’s really pretty.”

“I’m _clearly_ not, but…thanks. It probably won’t be, but there will be another.” Fucking Chase. Even when one was concerned, she liked to posture.

“Well, you’re a really good dresser. I don’t really have much going on with the whole aesthetics thing, it’s all utilitarian, all the time.” Max, never the one to try to pretend like she dressed well, gestured at her whole thing. Keira would be screaming at her right now, she could almost hear her.

“I do have some talent.” She fell silent for a moment, clearly thinking about something that pained her. Empathy, probably. Max took that moment to interject

“Yeah, you’ve got a good eye for this stuff. Kind of Avedonesque, you know?” Max cringed internally. She sounded like the worst kind of Nilfgaardian ass-kisser, the kind of person she wanted to kick the ass.

“He's one of my heroes... Thanks, Max.” She made a hopeless gesture, looking back into the building. “I hope those sluts get me a towel before they hang a sign on me. You deserve a better shot. Sorry about blocking you and...and the "go fuck your selfie". And for calling you…special.”

Max was speechless. It was like meeting an elf that wasn’t a colossal asshole, basically impossible. She found her voice after a moment, shrugging: “Hey, it was a solid line. Kind of a bitchy thing to say, but it was funny as shit.”

Victoria sighed, mumbling something about it being one of those days, moving out of Max’s way. Max bolted inside the building before Chase took control of the shared host again. She had a destination, after all.

Max ran up the stairs, heading towards the dorms, ignoring the weird confrontation that seemed to be taking place outside of Dana’s room. Drama. Her least favourite thing in the world. Max ran into her room, locking the door behind her. Finally, freedom. She pulled out the bottom of her armoire, fishing out the armour hidden beneath the old clothes, stripping down and starting to gear up. First, the pants, then the boots. She slipped a dagger into her boot, just in case before she pulled on the chest piece, replacing her medallion after fastening the buckles. She pulled on her gauntlets before producing her blades, strapping the scabbards onto her back. The finishing touch was her potion belt and the enhanced glamour charm that made her appear to be wearing a studded leather jacket, her guitar case fastened to her back and a pair of doc martens on her feet. She had to possibly track down Chloe Price, find out what entity had tried to contact her and find out what the hell her visions were directing her towards.

It was going to be a busy night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, this was a hard chapter to write. 
> 
> Also, anyone who correctly guesses what's up with the voice gets a cookie. 
> 
> Songs for these last chapters: 
> 
>    
> [Camp Cope - The Opener](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=40nc_8ij3MI)  
> [The Sex Pistols - Pretty Vacant](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VcauCclfytI)  
> [Girlschool- Hit and Run](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rfv0a_Hy6Ic)


	4. Pressure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max abandons better judgement once more, reunites with an old friend and finally gets to hit something.

The first thing Max had to do, if she was being honest with herself, was track down Chloe, if only because it was the easiest item on her to-do list. This was, of course, assuming she was still in town. Chloe might have moved away a long time ago and it wasn’t like Max would have known where she was going. She sighed, looking across her desk for anything she might have missed. Maybe Facebook stalking Chloe would be a decent idea to start off, but Max desperately wanted to go do witcher’s work. While her cover was necessary, it was a pain in the ass having to play the timid girl all the time. It wasn’t really her, and that irked the shit out of her. She wanted to be doing daring chases across rooftops or going deep into the bowels of the earth hunting monsters like shaelmars, not sitting in classrooms and allowing bitchy teenagers to try and belittle her. However, such is life and until she found something to fight, she had to fake like she was a normal girl. Shaking her head to dispel her wandering thoughts, Max walked out of her bedroom, nothing on her desk having caught her eye. She’d deal with the USB stuff later, she had a feeling that she’d have precious few leads concerning Chloe Price.

As she left the room, Max’s thoughts were disturbed by the yelling in the hall from Juliet whoever and Dana Ward, something about Juliet accusing Dana of sexting her boyfriend? Max wasn’t entirely interested in the conflict, they’d probably burn out by the time she got back. She chuckled to herself and entered the stairwell, heading outside quickly. The courtyard was largely empty by the time she got there, the various jocks and other assorted teenagers having dispersed for whatever reasons motivated them. As she moved towards the parking lot, she heard the sound of raised voices and she slowed down, glancing around the corner. Her medallion started to hum slightly as she did so, the witcher peering out at the two figures before her, Kate Marsh and the security guard

  
 “...so, don't think I'm blind! I see everything here at Blackwell! Do you understand what I'm saying?” The man seemed to be laying into the poor girl, getting really aggressive while Kate was backing into a metaphorical corner. Max sighed, rubbing her forehead. She really needed to get to work finding Chloe, but it seemed getting involved in the bathroom situation had stirred up some latent altruism. Doing another good deed with no discernible profit wouldn’t kill her, and the girl was kind of cute. Damn it.  


“Hey, Mad Eye, back off. Pretty sure your security mandate doesn’t extend to harassing students like some kind of inquisitor.” Max stepped into the light, her hand on her hip. If the worst came to the worst, she could Axii the dude into walking away, but that was a worse case scenario.

“Hey, I’m not harassing anyone, I’m doing my job.” He growled at Max, clearly wrongfooted  
  
“Yeah, badly.” He went red at that, looking like he was going to attack or something, but he clearly thought better of that because there was no universe where that ended with him keeping the aforementioned job.

“You-you’re part of the problem, missy, I will remember this conversation.” He turned and stalked off to nurse his bruised ego or something along those lines, Max didn’t really care. Max, having no real need to stick around waved goodbye to Kate and started to make her way to the bus station, her hands in her pockets as she idly strolled down the campus. It was a little bit weird being here even now, considering all that she’d been through in the other world. Adjustment would eventually happen, but the general sense of safety that permeated this place was perversely unnerving to her, she kept jumping at shadows. Hell, the thought that Prescott might find out that she tattled to the headmaster about his proclivity for waving handguns in bathrooms made her feel more at ease, seeing as he might try to pick a fight with her (she really needed to fight something). It was annoying as shit, but it was simply the way of things. She was too used to constant danger to really fit into a place where such things weren’t the matter of course. As she deliberated on the matter, she noted a flash of blue as someone raced towards a beaten-up truck. She focused her senses, her vision sharpening, everything snapping into higher definition as she stared at the person. It was the girl from the bathroom, but there was something really disturbingly familiar about her. Almost like Max…knew her…

“Oh, _fuck me_.” She grumbled to herself, her palm slamming against her forehead. There was no way it could be Chloe, she thought to herself, Chloe was a blonde. More to the point, Chloe wasn’t someone who picked fights with idiot rich bastards and got murdered as a result. On the other hand, Max wasn’t exactly the person Chloe knew either. That girl was basically dead, for starters, and would never have dreamed of making her living by killing the creatures that lurk in the shadows. And as a further point, Max decided, whether or not this person was Chloe, she probably would do well by making sure she wasn’t, since it was the closest she had to a lead without breaking into the Price family home. Which was probably a bad idea. Probably. The security in this place was probably a bit better than a latch and key system, so breaking in might have some unforeseen issues. She was delaying, she knew that, but how the hell was she supposed to do this? Walk over there and say: “Hey Chloe, I came back from a magical land full of assholes and now I can throw fire and reverse time?” Like hell. There was no universe where that went over well with Chloe, not the story, not Max’s true appearance, none of it.

Max’s navel-gazing was rudely interrupted by the sound of a truck engine sputtering into life. With a start, she realised that her thoughts had distracted her from actually committing to talking to Chloe. She bolted, running towards the truck, finally cutting loose and just going with it. She leaped past a couple Vortex groupies, gagging slightly as she caught a whiff of whatever bullshit concoction they were messing with, ignoring all of the various catcalls directed towards her as she ran up to the parking lot, managing to reach it before Chloe (if it was Chloe) pulled out.

“Max Caulfield, right? You're one of the Jefferson's photo groupies…” A harsh voice sounded out behind her, causing her to reflexively roll her eyes as she turned around. Nathan Prescott had apparently followed her for whatever reason, probably because he’d been to the principal’s office or some crap, she didn’t care.

“Yeah…I don’t have time for you right now, Prescott.” Max waved him off and looked around for the truck, which seemed to have vanished. Goddamn it. A second too late to catch up.

“What did you just say to me, freak?” His hand suddenly gripped Max’s shoulder, trying to be threatening, apparently. Max suddenly gripped his hand and twisted it around, her face breaking into a snarl as she fought down the desire to rip his arm clean off. His face went pale with fear moments before he succumbed to his own rage, fighting against her grip

“I said, Prescott, that I don’t have time for you. Back the fuck off before you lose this hand.” He sneered as she said that, somehow managing to ignore the clear and present danger of having his hand broken. Entitlement was one hell of a drug, it seemed. Max took a breath, calming herself down. Bringing oneself down from killer fury was the hardest lesson she’d had to learn, but Eskel had managed to teach her well enough.  


“Who the fuck do you think you are, bitch? I run this school, you’re nobody! If you don’t let go, I’ll sue you and everyone you’ve ever met, bitch!” He would have been threatening if his voice hadn’t cracked in the middle of his rant. Max sighed, letting go of his arm. He wasn’t any threat to her and she didn’t want to have any more eyes on her than she did already. She stepped back, her hands closing into fists in case he turned violent again. “You told the principal I had a gun, didn’t you? Didn’t you!?”

“No, the magical fairy of gun control told him.” She said with a grin, the corners of her mouth twisted into a wry shape

“Don’t you play games with me, Caulfield. Do you even know who I am?” Max rolled her eyes at the blustering idiot. It was almost like he’d forgotten what she’d almost done to his wrists.

“You’re Nathan Prescott, the epitome of privileged asshole.” She was so not going to put up with his bullshit much longer. The sooner she could bail from this inane conversation, the better. It was about as productive as negotiating with a drowner, complete with the tendency towards mindless violence.

“Shut the **fuck** up!” He yelled at her, his hand trying to grab her neck before she dodged, the clumsy strike basically slow motion to her. Max raised her hand, debating whether to use a sign on him to calm him down or get him to leave. Her fingers flickered through the shape of Axii, sending a wave of psychic energy at the boy, a simple command laced into the casting: leave. The white light flashed from her fingers and washed over Nathan, making him stagger slightly before turning at her with even more fury in his eyes: “No one controls me…” A glint of light appeared in his hand as he lunged at Max, his knife slashing towards her, the blade glowing slightly

Max blinked. She did not expect that to not work, and especially didn’t expect it to backfire to the extent that it did. As the knife descended towards her, her right hand rose to meet it, the burning sensation of the Elder blood ripping through her body again as she rewound the last few seconds, undoing the effect of her seemingly botched casting. She sidestepped his attempt to grab her by the neck again, her eyes narrowing as she stepped back from him, her hand moving towards Spit’s hilt almost in slow motion. Prescott was either a monster or a mage to resist that sign so thoroughly, or at the very least terrifyingly strong-willed, not to mention whatever was up with the knife. Whatever the case, he was probably enough of a risk to warrant using some lethal force. Just as her hand was about to close around the hilt and shatter her glamour, the truck swung back into view, nearly hitting Max in the back.

She stared at the driver, the girl from the bathroom, the girl from her goddamn childhood. A thousand memories flooded her mind as she stared her down, everything immobile for a single golden moment. She was almost unrecognisable to Max, but it had to be her.

“Chloe?” She hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“Max?” Holy shit, she still sounded like Chloe.  

“No way, you again?” He still sounded like an asshole. He also was distracted by the arrival of Chloe, giving Max an opening.

Max bolted for the truck, hoping to whatever gods were listening that Chloe would open the damn door. As she thought this, the door flung open, almost hitting her in the face as she tried to move around, sliding into the truck after righting herself. Seconds after Max closed the door, Chloe floored it, screeching out of the parking lot and hitting the open road, Prescott’s angry screams fading away behind them. The atmosphere of the vehicle was coloured with a certain degree of discomfort, the two girls reluctant to be the first one to talk. Max took the time to actually look at Chloe. She’d changed a lot since Max had seen her all those years ago, the hair being the most blatant part. Max thought it suited her, if she was going to be critical about it. It was a good colour and it stood out, something that Max quite liked. After all, Max planned to dye her own hair at some point. There was something else different about Chloe, a difference in how she held herself. If Max was any sort of judge for this kind of thing, Chloe had been through a lot in the past years. She gave off a sense of undirected rage, like she was furious at the world constantly but didn’t have a way to really express all of her anger, so it simmered under the skin, waiting for a release. Max wasn’t sure if she liked that or not.

She sighed to herself, leaning back in her seat. Chloe was definitely attractive, and Max had no idea how to really process that revelation. It wasn’t like this was the first time Max had found a girl attractive and it wasn’t even the first time she’d been attracted to Chloe, but there was something different about it now. Maybe it was just the fact that Max knew she was gay now, but still didn’t know what the hell Chloe’s deal was. She needed to break the tension, badly. Max was more unnerved now than she was when Prescott was trying to attack her, which was more than a little embarrassing.

  
“So, Prescott is fucking insane, right? I swear he tried to pull a knife on me back there.” Max groaned at herself internally. That was a more than slightly terrible way to start a conversation with the childhood friend she hadn’t seen in years.

"Oh, and thanks, Chloe!" After five years you're still Max Caulfield.” Chloe did not sound pleased to see Max. “Don't give me the guilty face. At least pretend you're glad to see me.”

“Hey, who said anything about not being glad to see you, Chloe? It’s just weird seeing you after all this time, you know? Especially after the insanity that’s been today.” Max smiled at Chloe. At least, she hoped it was a smile. For all the tension she was feeling, it could have been a Glasgow grin.

“Weird isn’t the word I would have used, but yeah, it works. And it’s been an insane day for both of us, I guess.” She seemed less likely to rip Max’s head off now, so that was an improvement. Pissing off the driver was not high on Max’s list of things she wanted to do. “So, why were you in a fight with Prescott? Doesn’t seem like your style to get into it with rich kids.”

“Hey, he just showed up and started shit. I wasn’t going to stand around and let him attack me, Chloe. I’m not exactly the same person I used to be.” Max shrugged, looking out the window. Hopefully Chloe wouldn’t press her too much on that statement, but she really shouldn’t tempt fate.

“Yeah, you’re definitely not as much of a wimp as you used to be. I’m guessing you must have run with a hardcore crowd in Seattle, yeah?” Chloe sounded amused now, which was a relief for Max to hear. If nothing else, it was better than hearing her childhood friend rip into her.

“Seattle was okay. I don’t really miss it that much, actually. It’s honestly better being back here, there’s a lot more options for me. Plus, less pretentious pricks.”

“I would have thought you would have fit in with the art school hipsters.”

“This from the poster girl for alternative lifestyle choices.” Max rolled her eyes. She didn’t like having to hide the truth like this, but there was no normal way to start a conversation about the shit she’d been through.

“Please, girl, you came back for Blackwell Academy.” She wasn’t entirely wrong, actually, but Max probably wouldn’t let her know that.

“Eh, kinda. I’m mostly here because if I’m going to study at a fancy college, might as well be in my hometown.” Another goddamned lie. She really needed to break the habit of reflexively lying to Chloe.

“So, you came back for a school. Not your best friend.” And thus, the general anger was released. “Never mind that you abandoned me for five years, you never even texted me or tried to find me since you’ve gotten back.”

“Oh, give me a break, Chloe. I’ve been through my fair share of world-shaking changes and you wouldn’t even believe any of the stuff I’ve been through.” Max glared at Chloe, suppressing the pang of guilt she felt. Chloe didn’t know why Max hadn’t contacted her, but seriously Max wasn’t exactly going to let Chloe dump on her, even out of ignorance.

“Oh, bullshit. Those ‘world-shaking’ changes basically boiled down to cutting me out of your life, Max, if you wanted me to be part of it, you’d have told me about this shit.”

“Pull over.” Max closed her eyes, knowing that what she was about to do would change the course of all of her plans. It had to be done, though, she really didn’t want to keep lying about everything.

“What? You’re seriously going to get out of the car because I yelled at you? Grow up, Max.” Chloe pulled the car to the side of the road, waiting for Max to get out, simmering with anger. Max, her eyes still closed, reached over to the bracelet on her wrist, slipping it off slowly, allowing the glamour to fade slowly. She could feel it draining away, the illusions making her seem ordinary, the lie that she wrapped herself in like a blanket. She opened her eyes, the glowing yellow orbs staring at Chloe’s shocked blue ones, the other girl looking stunned at the sight of Max’s scarred face.

“I didn’t abandon you by choice, Chloe. I was taken to another place, another world. I’m not the Max you knew, I’m sorry.” Chloe didn’t say anything, just staring at Max. “I never meant to abandon you, I couldn’t contact you for a long time and when I could, it was too late. I'd become a witcher, and I just couldn't think of a way to tell you.”

Chloe opened her mouth to say something but closed it again quickly. Max sat motionless, waiting for the barrage of fearful comments. It wasn’t anything unusual, this was how things went for her kind, but she had a feeling that this one would hurt. Her hand moved towards the door handle, ready to leave the truck when Chloe asked her to.

“Max…this is incredible. You look so different but, dude, this is hella awesome! I have so many questions about this, but seriously this is the coolest thing ever.” Max sagged with relief, a genuine smile spreading across her face as she listened to Chloe’s gushing, the witcher’s friend seemingly taking the whole thing in stride. “So, Max, how did this happen, what’s a witcher and why are you carrying swords?”  
  
Max laughed, holding up a hand to get Chloe to slow down: “Okay, so, one, a witcher is a monster hunter of sorts, I carry swords because they’re useful against monsters and as to how this happened, that’s a long story that I’ll tell you on the way to wherever you were driving us to. It all began five years ago, just after we’d moved to Seattle…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a weird un, that's for sure
> 
> But on the brightside, I've finally hit divergence from strict adherence to canon
> 
> Also, flaaashbacks next chapter
> 
> Song for this chapter [Pressure, by Muse](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A3nQlVRiLG0)


	5. No Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max flashbacks, Chloe listens and Max feels small

Max sighed, looking at her phone. Moving to Seattle was hard enough, but she couldn’t think of what to say to Chloe considering everything that had just happened. She sighed, sitting down on her bed, looking at the wall. She couldn’t really think of a word to describe how she currently felt, everything was just too overwhelming. William’s death, moving away, the _funeral._ Max had never imagined Chloe looking as sad as she had then, she looked so…empty. The whole funeral felt like a bad dream now, though, seeing as she was so far away from Arcadia Bay, so far away from anything that reminded her of what she was leaving behind. She looked out the window, staring at the city. It was so much bigger than Arcadia Bay, it kind of freaked her out. It was pretty likely that Max wouldn’t have any trouble going unnoticed here, not like…

A flash of light disrupted her train of thought as she was staring out the window. Blinking slightly, the light having dazzled her a bit, she tried to figure out what had happened there, but all she could see was a tall guy in some really weird clothes step out of the alley. He glanced up at her, looking Max straight in the eye. She froze, unable to look away from the pale eyes gazing piercingly at her. Inhuman eyes. She blinked, and he was gone as quickly as he appeared, like a ghost. Max dropped down from the window, pulling her knees to her chest, freaked out by what she’d just seen. She wasn’t sure why, but something about that guy was actually terrifying and familiar. Every inch of her skin felt like it was crawling at the sight of him, like he’d done something before. She blinked again, suddenly a lot calmer, like a wave of calm had just swept over her, soothing her fears. Max stood up, walking out of her room. It would be nice to have some company right now and her parents were probably about to get dinner ready. She went down the stairs, humming to herself.

“Hello.” The quiet voice stopped her in her tracks, the slightly accented word somehow louder than anything she’d ever heard. Max turned her head to the right and there he was, the guy from outside standing right in front of her. His clothes were damp with what looked like melted snow, which made no sense because it wasn’t snowing outside. Max looked at his face and her breath caught in her throat. Her thought about his eyes being inhuman was completely correct, because this guy was not human. If anything, he looked like an elf from Lord of the Rings, with those weird pointed ears and super pale skin. Max felt like a deer in headlights as he stared at her, she couldn’t think of anything to say or do right now. She knew she should probably move, but she couldn’t muster the energy to start running. He had a strange expression on his face, like he’d just gotten something he wanted but he’d never expected to get it.

“You will be coming with me, human. You have a birthright much more important than any of this and I will be taking you from this cold world.” His words were still quiet, but they were terrifying. She had no idea what he was talking about, or why her parents weren’t doing anything about this. She could hear them laughing in the kitchen, but it was like they couldn’t hear this guy.

“Mom? Dad? There’s a weird guy in the hall!” She yelled as loudly as she could, but they didn’t do anything. They just kept laughing in the kitchen, like none of this mattered to them. Max backed up the stairs, energy going back into her legs as she bolted for her room, slamming the door shut and locking it behind her. She grabbed her phone, dialling nine one-one, but the phone refused to ring. She could hear the creaking as he walked up the stairs, the bolt slowly turning back in the door like a phantom hand was pulling it back. She had to do something, anything, before he abducted her or whatever he was planning to do to her. A cold shiver went over her, her hands moving on autopilot as she grabbed her backpack and her camera, something in her head saying that she had to grab them. The door opened wide, the elf dude’s hands folded behind his back as he stepped into the room, his expression one of disdain.

“Really, child? You have nothing to fear from me, I am taking you to serve a better purpose than any of this drivel.” He reached out, his hand gripping her shoulder as her muscles seemed to betray her as she followed him outside of the house, walking in full view of her parents who waved her and said something about having a nice trip? Max never really remembered what they said with any clarity. The elf walked her over to the place where he stepped through, muttering something in a language she didn’t understand, a blue hole appearing in the wall before them before the elf shoved her through, the world turning azure. She could feel his cold grip on her arm as they tumbled through the portal, her eyes dazzled by the light around her, pulling them through a space between spaces. The fear she felt was nearly overwhelming, but there was something bubbling in the pit of her stomach: pure, blind rage. How _dare_ this guy just steal her from her house, in the middle of the day and just drag her off to whatever grisly fate awaited her? How dare her parents let him? As she thought about this, she could feel something rise within her to match her emotions, a power unlike anything she’d ever felt. For a moment, she could see every second of her life, every instant that she had lived or could have lived and in that brief moment, she saw a figure in armour, a girl with blue hair and a tornado. The awareness vanished, but she could feel the power bubbling within her, close to disappearing but she could do something with it. She _pulled._

She ripped herself out of his grip, tumbling into the blue void, feeling herself shift, a thousand things striking into her body, ripping through it. She screamed, or at least she thought she did, she couldn’t hear anything. She could feel, though. She could feel herself tumbling through snow, she could feel the dull impact of stone on flesh as she slammed into what felt like a boulder. Everything faded to black, nothingness embracing her.

She was never sure how long she was unconscious for, but she always remembered what woke her up. Sad Albert woke her up with the poisons and mutagens that started her transformation into a mutant, changing her beyond recognition. She screamed a lot, thrashing against the restraints, no words fitting through the painfilled haze in her skull as she went through the Trial. She could hear the voices around her but couldn’t understand them. It was not a time of clarity, honestly. But, in the deepest recesses of her mind, the part that wasn’t blinded with pain, she felt relief at the fact that she wasn’t dead. It went for what seemed like forever, even though it was more like a day or so. She eventually blacked out again, the pain wiping her out entirely. The unconscious state was welcomed, however, after all the horrors of the Trial. (She didn’t know it was called the Trial of the Grasses at the time, of course.)

The sound of raised voices woke her up from her stupor. Max rose from a really scratchy bed, blinking as she looked around some kind of massive stone hall. The voices were coming from the centre of it, all of them male, but none of them sounding like the weird elf. She paused for a moment, oddly unconcerned about the memory of the elf. She knew she _should_ be more freaked out right now, but she had some kind of strange Zen thing going on, like nothing was really bothering her. She started padding across the floor, her bare feet almost recoiling from the ice-cold stone. She staggered a couple times, her legs almost giving way under her as she approached the group of men. They weren’t like anyone she knew, there was something about them that was a little unnerving. Maybe it was the swords, maybe it was the yellow eyes. Whatever it was, it didn’t freak Max out as much as it should have.

One of them, the oldest, moved to help her when it looked like she would fall. “It looks like our foundling is awake. Easy, girl, save your strength.” He reminded Max a little of her grandpa, despite the swords and general sense of menace.

“M-Max. My name is Max.” She stammered, her eyes not meeting his. The whole situation was really unnerving, and she gladly took a seat. Even with her newfound calm, she was still a little freaked out. “Where am I? Who are you people and why am I so weak?”

One of the others, a brown-haired man with a massive disfiguring scar across his face, chuckled slightly. He had a deep laugh and despite his looks, Max thought he looked kind of friendly. “You’re in Kaer Morhen, kid. Home to the School of the Wolf, such as it is.”

“What’s a school of the Wolf?” Max stammered, looking at the two other figures, who were still silent.

The oldest one answered again, speaking slowly and carefully. “The School of the Wolf is a witcher school, miss, and as to why you’re so weak, well, you’ve just been through the Trial of the Grasses. Your body has gone through some changes and- “

He was interrupted by one of the other two scoffing at his words, his arms folded and generally giving off an impression of being a prick. “What the old man means is that you’ve been turned into a mutant. Good luck living a normal life now.”

He looked like he was going to say more, but he subsided after the old man gave him a Look. Max folded her arms, a bit closer to freaking out than she was a moment before. “What do you mean, a mutant? Like, do I have laser vision or something now?”

They all gave her a weird look, like she’d said something in a foreign language. The old man shook his head again, looking Max in the eyes. She recoiled from his gaze, the amber eyes sending a shiver down her spine. Humans didn’t have slit pupils, there was something really wrong here. He raised a hand, probably to calm as he spoke again. “No, no…whatever those are. In any case, Max, I believe some proper introductions are in order. I am Vesimir, the man standing next to me is Eskel. The young man over there- “, he gestured at the one who seemed like a dick, “Is Lambert. And the silent one in the corner is Geralt.”

Max nodded, mentally noting all their names. She had no idea what was going to happen next, but it would probably be a good idea to take a note of everyone who was around her. She sighed, clenching her fist slightly as she thought for a moment. “What’s going to happen to me? What did happen to me? How did I get here?”

“Well, the first question is easy enough to answer. Eskel found you in the snow outside the castle and took you inside. You were hurt pretty bad, so we decided to try our luck with the Trial. It was touch and go for a while, but your injuries didn’t leave us much choice.” Vesimir shrugged “As for the others, well, in terms of genetics, you’re the first female witcher. Personally, I’d like to try and train you, if you’re willing. You’ll need to stay here for a short time while you finish healing, in any case.”

The next few days after that conversation were mostly spent with Max resting, reading all the books she could get her hands on and trying to get her phone to work. She also spent a good deal of time thinking about Vesimir’s offer, the idea of her training to be a witcher was tempting after she’d read up on what that was and investigated her own gifts. The first thing she’d noticed was the sharper senses, how everything tasted a bit better, she could see with insane clarity and hear so much, it was almost overwhelming. The second thing she’d noticed was the weird tingling that seemed constantly buzzing under her skin. It was like her body was full of static electricity and she couldn’t let any of it out, which was pretty unnerving. She didn’t really have any frames of reference for any of this stuff, but the witchers presumably did, which made Vesimir’s offer incredibly tempting.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“To cut a long story short, Chloe, I accepted Vesimir’s offer and started training as a witcher the second I was ready to. Those were some fun times, actually, I’ll tell you the full story some time.” Max smiled at Chloe, her friend looking more than a little unsettled by how cavalier Max was about her whole past thing. They’d pulled into her driveway and Max had reapplied her glamour, looking for all the world like a normal girl. It was weird being here, it seemed like nothing had changed in all the years of absence. The static nature of Arcadia Bay was interesting, like something was causing it to remain exactly as she had left it. A thought for later, when she had time to think about it. She needed to understand the new Chloe Price and everything around her, to decipher the nature of her childhood friend. God, she sounded like a sorceress. What she really needed to do was find a way to stop that giant magical vortex from ripping the town apart like a bunch of wet tissue paper, and she also needed to figure out who the hell spoke to her in the bathroom. Because she found Chloe, but she didn’t seem to know anything more than Max about her visions, though on second thought that might just be because Max hadn’t mentioned shit about her visions.

“Max, that’s kind of fucked up. Like, hella fucked up. You were _abducted?_ What the hell? How did no one know about this?”

“The way I understand it is that the elf enchanted my parents to think I was studying in Poland or something.”

“Wow…that’s actually worse.” Chloe looked more than a little unsettled by the whole thing, her body language tense, almost like she was expecting an attack. In fact, as Max thought, Chloe gave off an impression of never being calm, her whole stance closed in, guarded. Though she didn’t seem to know how to fight, at least not at Max’s level, the whole situation earlier fixed that clearly in her mind. Max shook her head, realising that she’d gotten lost in her thoughts again. She smiled at Chloe, a slightly tight, uncomfortable smile that showed more of her own tension than she would have liked.

“Sorry, got lost in my head, what were you saying?”

“I was saying get out of my truck, we should get inside.”

Max chuckled awkwardly, hopping out of the truck and following Chloe into the house she knew better than the one in Seattle, the familiarity of the place deeply unsettling to Max. She thought this life dead, even when she returned. The old Max wasn’t a person she recognised, not really. Chloe would have recognised the old Max, and Max knew that this was going to be a point of divide, contention between the two girls. Max was definitely not the person Chloe knew, and everything Max could read about Chloe was that before Max had told her story, she’d been angry at Max for abandoning her and Max could understand why. The old Max would have probably retreated to herself, and in a sense, she had been good with never returning to this world. At least on some level, she had been content with never returning to America, Temeria had been good enough for her.

The door to Chloe’s room creaked open and it had _changed._ Well, more like it had been hit with a truckload of hormones and drugs. The walls were papered with posters, graffiti, Christmas lights (oddly enough) and the room was thick with the scent of weed. Max coughed slightly, trying to work through the scent, the unexpected blast making her head spin slightly. She looked around for a place to sit, Chloe having flopped down on the bed. Max let her swords slip off of her back, the blades hitting the ground with an audible thud. She sat down at the foot of the bed, looking around the room with an appraising eye, trying to determine anything she could about Chloe’s worldview, how it could have changed over the years. So far, she seemed to have picked up a healthy amount of cynicism, which Max definitely approved of, seeing as Chloe’s wall had a notable bit of graffiti discussing the nature of human deception. Neither of the girls spoke for a bit, sitting in a tense silence. Chloe didn’t seem to want to speak much, which was good for Max. Max wanted to think, to deliberate on what she had learned and where she wanted to go from here.

“Hey Max, why is your necklace going nuts?” Chloe’s voice broke her concentration, the words drawing Max’s attention to her medallion which was indeed going nuts. It was clattering against her chest, the scraping against her armour making a familiar sound echo through the room. She blinked, looking around

“It reacts to the presence of magic, Chloe, it goes crazier the stronger the aura is, and I don’t know why it’s going crazy in here. Mind if I look around?” Max asked, Chloe nodding her permission. Max stood up, starting to move around, the amulet quieting down the further she got from the bed. Max looked down, her senses sharpening as she scanned the bed with her witcher’s eyes. Her eyes narrowed as she spotted a lockbox under the bed, reaching out to take it. She opened it, the medallion going insane as she took out a picture of Chloe and the missing girl from the poster in her bag, Rachel Amber. Beneath it was a blue feather earring which Max reached out for, her fingers brushing against it. A shock ran through her body as they touched it, her mind expanding, feeling for an instant like she was immense, above everything and yet…she also felt beneath notice, like she was a tiny speck in a near infinite cosmos. A not unfamiliar sensation to the witcher, she had felt something like this before, when she had first been pulled between worlds.

“Chloe…what _was_ Rachel Amber?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear god, this one is late. I'm very sorry about that, life has been nuts this time of year
> 
> Song for this chapter
> 
>  
> 
> [No Home by Nico Vega](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gl5kTh5EQMA)


	6. Daydream in Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe speaks, Max hunts and a visitor appears

“She was my angel. We were going to leave this shithole and see the world.” Chloe’s voice was hoarse, like Max’s question had force-fed her gravel or something. Max swallowed her impatience, waiting for Chloe to continue talking. Max knew that this was probably a hard conversation for Chloe to have, but Max needed to know what the hell Rachel Amber was. The _sense_ she had gotten from that earring wasn’t normal, or natural.

“That wasn’t exactly what I was asking about, Chloe. Did she ever do anything that would be a bit weird? Something that you wouldn’t really expect a teenage girl to do, like start fires or break a window without touching it?” Max blinked for a moment, realising that she had swapped over to her “professional” voice reflexively. Chloe was looking at her, her eyes narrowed slightly, like Max’s question had hit a nerve or triggered a response she wasn’t expecting.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Max? Like, what the actual fuck do you mean? Rachel wasn’t some kind of weird being, she was a girl. She basically saved my life after you left. And then she disappeared six months ago. Not a text or a call, nothing. She just _left._ And unlike you, I’m pretty sure she wasn’t abducted by a magical elf and turned into a monster hunter.” Chloe laid back on her bed, pointedly avoiding eye contact with Max.

“Yeah, I would have noticed if she was at Kaer Mohren. But, Chloe, this is important. Do you remember anything strange happening around her? Anything at all?” Max lowered her voice, trying to sound gentle this time around because Chloe looked weirdly…fragile after her outburst and she didn’t want to hurt her. “Because when I touched her earring, I had a vision, kind of. More like an impression than an actual vision, and I don’t get those lightly, my magical senses are a little basic.”  


Chloe sat up, her eyes piercing into Max’s, her fragility gone, replaced with a scarily intense expression: “What kind of impression, Max?” She whispered, almost as if the words scared her. Max climbed onto the bed next to her, adjusting her armour a little to allow a tiny amount of comfort

“It was strange, it was like I was looking back at myself and seeing how _small_ I was in the grand scheme of things, but at the same time, I felt this immense presence watching through me, like it was beyond everything around it. It was like when I was between worlds, the first time I ever used my powers, how I felt like I was experiencing every moment of my life at once.” She raised her right hand, feeling the power within her twist and turn as it tried to escape her, the magic that allowed her to rewind time burning behind her palm. “Touching the earring felt like that, it was definitely unusual.”

Chloe sighed, looking away from Max before she spoke: “I…might remember something that Rachel did that was kind of strange. She started a fire, like the normal way, but it spread way faster than it should have and then it suddenly stopped. It stopped…” she paused for a moment before taking a deep breath. “It stopped when Rachel was unconscious. Like the fire was linked to her or something, it was insane. And, you asked about Rachel, but I’ve had some weird stuff happen to me. I thought they were just dreams, but you’ve been going on about visions and…” She trailed off, before taking a breath and continuing. “I used to have dreams where I’d talk to my dad and he’d warn me about dangers and shit. I had one of those dreams last night, actually, and he mentioned ‘the wolf returning to the pack’, which made zero sense to me until I saw your weird medallion.”

Max was stunned. In all her theories about why the voice wanted her to find Chloe and all the stuff she’d been whipping up about Rachel’s nature through this conversation, it had never occurred to her that Chloe might have developed her own supernatural abilities. This was probably because Max was still clinging to her halcyon memories of the past and didn’t want to associate Chloe with the bizarre and horrible nature of her life. What this ability was, be it burgeoning sorcerous power or some kind of lesser talent, Chloe was involved more deeply with this Arcadia Bay mystery than Max had thought. And that vision she’d had all those years ago, it had involved a girl with blue hair. “Chloe, I think we should have this conversation somewhere with a bit more room. I’d rather not have Joyce get involved with all this stuff right now, if only because I don’t exactly want to explain my situation to her.”

Chloe nodded, standing up from the bed, a somewhat determined look on her face. Max grabbed her swords from the floor and moved towards the window, never one to wait around like an idiot when there was an obvious exit point. The choked sounds of a car shuddering to a halt in the driveway echoed in her ears, Max quickly climbing out of the window. She landed in the yard, doing her best to outrun the wave of nostalgia from seeing the old swings, she couldn’t afford to waste time thinking about how much fun she’d had here, how easy those times seemed now. She turned around, watching Chloe climb down with significantly less grace as she hit the ground, gesturing to Max as she headed towards her truck.

“C’mon Max, before the step-prick gets out here.” She whispered as they bolted for the truck, the aforementioned step-prick seemingly unaware of the truck leaving until a moment of time past and he burst out of the house. And of course, since Max couldn’t have any more complications in her life, he was Mr Madsen, the security asshole. She wasn’t sure why she was surprised by it in any way, he was certainly a prick. A prick with a deeply inflated sense of his value slash mandate as a security guard. As the truck pulled away, Max could feel Chloe relax next to her, the bluenette clearly much calmer in the absence of Madsen. God, she really traded down in the fathers department compared to William, while Max seemed to have an overabundance of father figures in her life.

She was about to speak to Chloe about it, but a flash of movement caught her eye as they drove along. It was unclear what she had seen, but it sure as hell wasn’t human. She pulled off her glamour and looked over at Chloe: “Pull the car over. Now.” Her voice dropped to a growl as she reached for her sword. A monster better than a nekker might have finally reared its ugly head and Max had been aching for a fight over the entire time she’d been back in Arcadia Bay. Plus she could stop dwelling on the past and get her head back in the proverbial game.

“Chloe, stay in the truck. This won’t take long.” She said before slipping out before Chloe could raise a response to her actions. She was going to find whatever that was and kill it, harvest its organs for potions and then go back to investigating her erstwhile best friend’s erstwhile lover? She wasn’t sure what their relationship was, but she was eighty five percent sure that it was gay. The remaining fifteen percent unsurety was from her own personal inability to gauge interpersonal relationships. Eskel wasn’t exactly Mister Congeniality and Geralt’s relationships were a catastrophic clusterfuck of nightmarish stupidity, so in terms of relationships, they weren’t much of an example. With all this running through her head, Max crossed the road and slid down the side of the rise, looking at the animal tracks around her. She focused for a moment, sniffing the air around the tracks, picking up a somewhat unusual scent for this world, seeing as grave hags weren’t exactly native to this plane of existence. A savage grin spread across Max’s lips as she unsheathed Spit, the silver sword glinting in the afternoon sun. She started to follow the trail at a light jog, not wanting to be the only witcher to trip and impale herself on her sword. The scent lay heavy in the air, the smell of rotting corpses and swamp air almost visible in the air from the sheer heaviness of the reek that the grave hag left behind her like a marking of territory. Max kept following the trail, despite her nose pleading for the sweet release of death after a few moments inhaling the redolence of the grave hag.

As she went deeper into the woods, she could hear the sound of something _chewing._ The cracking of bones snapped through the air as she approached, the grave hag distracted by whatever meal she was feasting on. Max crouched behind a bush, quietly and slowly applying a bit of necrophage oil to her blade, not having time to do a proper job. She uncorked another glass vial and drank the contents, her body burning as the potion flooded through her veins, unnatural strength coursing through her as the toxic brew did its work. Her vision clouded slightly, her breath coming in short bursts as she prevented herself from simply leaping out there and trying to tear the creature’s head off with her bare hands. She took out her bottle of swallow next, drinking it as swiftly as she had drunk the first, the horrible taste thick on her tongue as she felt her body try to reject the mixture. She could probably handle a third before she really started to feel it, but she was denied the chance to try as a twig snapped a few feet away and a familiar voice rung out

“Hey, Max? Where the fuck did you go?” Chloe was neither stealthy nor subtle, that much hadn’t changed, which meant that if Max didn’t act in the next three seconds, her childhood friend/irritatingly pretty adult friend would become monster food. Which was bad. Becoming monster food was bad. Especially for people Max liked. She sprung into action, her fingers twisting into the Aard sign, the blast of kinetic energy smashing into the side of the hag, smashing it to the ground with a sickening crunch. Well, sickening to other people, Max felt rather satisfied by the sound. Her feet crunched through the autumn leaves as the witcher caught up with her prey, the wolf baring her teeth at the beast before her. She didn’t have time to yell a warning to Chloe, she had to put this thing down before it could continue harming people. Her blade was light in her hands as she swung down on the grave hag’s head, the sword nearly cutting her in half, but the beast’s reflexes were monstrously impressive as she leaped away from the terrible blade. Max formed another Sign, the energy splashing out around her, forming a circle of purple light as she slowly moved around, watching the hag’s movements as its eyes swapped between Max and Chloe, trying to determine which was worth attacking, the witcher or the innocent bystander. Unfortunately for the beast, Max decided to force its hand, dashing forward and slashing at it, drawing blood with the precise strike. The creature slashed at her with its claws, the witcher dodging away from the blow, spinning around and slashing again, another strike that grazed the flesh, the hag shrieking in pain as Max smiled her wolf’s grin, the cold, white smile of the witcher. The grave hag’s talons lashed out, catching the witcher on the leg, the blow barely connecting but still drawing blood, a grunt of pain escaping Max’s lips. Her hands tightened on Spit’s hilt before she parried the hag’s next strike, the claws ringing on the shining blade.

A gunshot rang out, the bullet piercing the hag’s eye, doing very little damage to the beast, but it still caused it pain. The beast spun around, looking for the source of this new attack and saw it: Chloe Price, holding a snub-nosed revolver in shaking hands, her eyes bright with determination and fear. Max immediately took advantage of the distraction, slashing at the legs of the hag to trip it into her circle, the spell immediately taking effect as the beast started to move in slow motion, the power of Yrden pulling at the beast. Max, inwardly bemoaning the monumental stupidity of trying to use a gun against a monster, swung at the monster, trying to make this blow a final mark on the stupid fucking hag’s stupid fucking life. Spit sang through the air, cutting into the back of the creature as she put all of her strength into the blow, the blade sinking deep into the hag’s back. She pulled the blade out and swung again, the black blood splattering over her cuirass as she struck into the creature’s spine, the blade cutting through the bone, propelled by the witcher’s strength. With a final horrid cry, the creature sank to the ground, its life ebbing away until Max swung one last time, severing its head. She cleaned her blade on the grass and sheathed it, feeling a sense of satisfaction. Well, until Chloe puked in the bushes.

“Uh, you okay there, Chloe?” She stepped over, more than a little concerned at her friend’s extreme reaction to the fight.

“Oh god…what the hell was that thing? What the actual fucking hell was that thing?” Chloe was not taking this well, it seemed. Not that Max expected she would, people tended to not take seeing horrible monsters well, especially not when they’d lived their lives thinking they were imaginary.

“It was a grave hag, Chloe, a kind of necrophage. It’s a monster that eats the dead, or at least it was.” Max hoped she was being reassuring in her tone, she couldn’t really tell. This whole thing wasn’t how she wanted Chloe to see her work, hells, she hadn’t really wanted Chloe to see her work at all. It hadn’t been until now, but she’d not wanted to lose the tiny fragile remnants of their past connection, the little pieces of the person Chloe remembered her being. She wanted that to remain unchanged, to keep her two worlds from colliding as much as she could, but that was impossible, she’d seen the evidence of that now.

“A what? Max, is this what your life is like? This is what a witcher is? Holy shit, how…how do you handle it?” Chloe straightened up, wiping her chin, her eyes wild as she studiously avoided looking at the remains of the monster.

“Well, the mutations removed a lot of my emotions, so I don’t really get scared of these things anymore. It’s normal to me now. Honestly, this is the most normal thing that’s happened to me since I got back, which tells you more about my life than anything else. Plus, what are you talking about, you’re a badass! You shot a monster in the face without any fucking experience in this? And you hit it? That’s incredible.” Max smiled at Chloe, somehow looking encouraging. This was weird. Being the one encouraging Chloe was weird.

Chloe looked over at Max, her pride seemingly overcoming her revulsion. “Y-yeah! Yeah! I totally Buffy versus the Judged that monster! You definitely wouldn’t have won without-holy shit, your leg! Max, are you okay?” Her voice was laden with actual concern, which made Max want to hug her. But she was still covered in gross hag blood so no hugs.

“Yeah, Chloe, I’m fine. It healed; the potion did its thing.” She stomped the leg a bit, wincing slightly but still smiling. “See? Good as new thanks to a little alchemy. The Swallow potion, it’s saved my life and legs more times than I can count. Anyway, we’ve detoured enough, you were taking me somewhere.”

“Y-yeah, let’s get back to the truck. We have to talk about the, yeah, the stuff. Let’s go.” Chloe stammered out, climbing up the bank as Max followed her. The two were quiet as they drove up the road to the lighthouse, Max cringing slightly as she saw it. That was the place she’d been seeing in her bizarre visions ever since she’d started to receive them from whatever source brought them into the world. She also remembered better times with that lighthouse, times that involved her childhood and its varied adventures with her punk girl-who-is-a-friend-that-is-now-disconcertingly-hot. She needed to get a lid on that and figure out where she stood vis-à-vis Chloe and her seemingly growing crush on her. Which, _come on Maxine,_ was not the most important thing she could be thinking of right now, that was seriously low on the list of priorities she should be drawing up right now. The two of them got out, Chloe moving ahead as Max hung back, looking around the area and trying not to get too distracted by the amulet rattling against her chest as she moved towards the lighthouse. There was far too much power here for her to truly discern. But that was a concern for later, she needed to talk to Chloe **now.**

“Okay, Chloe, I’m just gonna say it: you and Rachel might be a little bit…paranormal.” Max sax next to her on the bench, looking out at the ocean, relaxing slightly as the sound of waves hit her ears.

“Max, I don’t know what you mean and if I hadn’t seen all the shit I’d seen today, I’d say you were high. I’m not supernatural, I’m just regular ol’ Chloe Price! You’re the one with the insane backstory and all the powers, I’m just me. And Rachel was amazing, but she was human. If she’d been some witch or something, she would have told me. Though, I guess she didn’t tell me everything.” The tone of her voice was almost heartbreaking, Max couldn’t believe how beaten she sounded. They’d just fought a monster and won, why wasn’t she still coasting on that?

“Chloe, you talked to the dead. Like actually spoke to sprits in your dreams. Do you know how rare that kind of thing is? If I wanted to summon up a spirit, I’d have to get all kinds of gross implements and stuff to try and get a spirit to talk to me. And like I said, Rachel’s earring was all kinds of magical. So if I’m wrong, then I’m clearly not a very good witcher. Also, Chloe, I heard a voice in my head, a girl’s voice, earlier today who told me to find you. And I had never heard this person before, they weren’t a crazy split personality thing, they were some spirit or being telling me to find you, and I think it might be Rachel.”

Chloe jumped up, glaring at Max with steely blue eyes: “She’s. Not. Dead.”

“I wasn’t thinking that she was, I know what a ghost feels like. I think she’s sending messages from somewhere, though.”

Chloe relaxed, her fists unclenching as she turned away from Max: “You think we can find her, Max? Because if you do, we’re going to fucking find her if we have to tear apart this shit-pit to do it. It’s not taking someone else away from me, I’m not letting this place do that again!”  
  
“I mean, if we can figure out how your visions work, maybe get you some kind of magical training, we can try to find her that way or we can—” Max’s words were cut off suddenly as she found herself alone on the hill, the wind and rain whipping at her, somewhere near the bottom. She started to climb up the hill, her hand shading her eyes, the thunder of the vortex ringing in her ears as she headed up the mountain, every cell in her body pulling her towards the peak of the hill. She moved past the obstacles, her agility and speed allowing her to move through the storm-broken hill. She reached the peak, where it was normally empty of everyone but her.

And in a sense, it still was.

“Hello, Max.” The voice was quiet, but she could hear it as clearly as if it was coming from her own mouth. Which, again, it was. Max had seen a lot of strange shit in her time. She’d been to another world, she’d seen demons and leshens and the Wild Hunt itself, she’d fought monsters most people only ever saw in their nightmares and she had beaten them. But honestly, nothing prepared her for the uniquely bizarre situation of seeing herself stand in front of herself, carrying a staff and wearing a bizarrely nice dress.

“We’ve got a lot to talk about and not much time in which to do it. I’d say write everything down, but in this wind, I wouldn’t worry about it. You’ll remember it, it’s rather important after all.” The other Max tapped her staff on the ground, creating two rudimentary stools from the earth.

“Sit. We have a world to save.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy there was a delay for this one, ay. Sorry about that. On the bright side, we're getting into the good plot stuff. 
> 
> What's canon, anyway?
> 
> Song for the chapter:
> 
> [Daydream in Blue by I Monster](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BhB6Lb7_kN8)


End file.
